


Laundry Day

by TealTumbleweed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fanart, Fluff, Gen, Laundry day, Post-Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TealTumbleweed/pseuds/TealTumbleweed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can't find his boxer shorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laundry Day

**Author's Note:**

> Art originally posted at [my Tumblr](http://tealtumbleweed.tumblr.com/post/33649298922/so-i-found-this-picture-yesterday-and-decided-it).
> 
> Unbeta-ed.

 

It was the first sunny day autumn had seen, and Dean woke up to the sun shining warmly through the grimy window of their current Shack-of-the-Week. He tiredly rubbed his eyes while sitting up, blinking against the glare of the bright light. The house was quiet, meaning that Sam was either still asleep or out and that Cas could be anywhere doing anything. Dean made his way over to the small bathroom that still had -- thank God (relax, it’s just a figure of speech) -- running water. After a quick shower he returned to the small room that serviced as the brother’s bedroom and ruffled through his duffel bag, searching for a clean pair of boxers. The bag was, however, nearly empty, and completely void of underwear. Frowning, Dean inspected the rest of the room, but after finding nothing to put on, he continued to search the rest of the house.

When his eye caught something moving outside, Dean opened the door that lead to the overgrown backyard. Much to his surprise, he was immediately confronted with his missing boxers.

“Cas! What the hell!” he yelped at his friend, who was hanging colorful pieces of underwear on a long piece of string that now functioned as a washing line; swaying in the soft breeze between two columns that supported the porch’s roof.

Castiel glanced up at Dean’s intrusion, and gave him a questioning look. “Good morning,” was all he said, oblivious to the source of his friend’s obvious frustration.

Dean crossed the porch in two steps and proceeded to glower at Cas, hovering in his personal space. It wasn’t until he noticed Cas’ quick glance downward that he remembered that he was clad in nothing but a ratty towel around his waist.

“Um,” was all that came out of Dean’s mouth when he tried to lecture Castiel on privacy (yet again), and Cas raised his eyebrows.

“What is the matter?” he asked innocently, and Dean wasn’t sure whether his friend was being serious or not.

“You stole my boxers!” Dean finally said, which made him sound like a petulant child. “You don’t just steal a man’s underwear! That’s private!”

At that, Cas just shrugged, his shoulders casually moving up and down. After a prolonged silence, Dean huffed, and looked away. Even though he was well used to Castiel’s stares by now, they still made him a smidgen uncomfortable. It didn’t help he was only wearing a towel at the moment.

“Are you really angry with me for doing your laundry, Dean?” Castiel asked, his face so serious Dean couldn’t help but laughing at his friend’s tone.

“You really are something else, Cas, you know that?” he said, reaching out and ruffling the angel’s hair. “Who even does another guy’s dirty laundry for fun?”

Seeing he was forgiven, Castiel gave a small laugh as well, leaning in to Dean’s touch.

“It wasn’t that much work,” he finally countered, and he fastened the last clothes pin on a pair of firetruck red undies. He proudly clapped his hands and surveyed his work, apparently satisfied with his achievement. “Besides,” he continued, “I’d never done the laundry before. I like learning new things.”

At that, Dean laughed even louder. “Yeah, I know,” he said, and he surprised himself by enveloping his friend in a hug.

“Sorry for, uhm, you know,” Dean said, and Castiel nodded understandingly, his head softly bobbing up and down on Dean’s shoulder.

“I understand,” he said, stepping back. “Washing undergarments is akin to watching porn. Not something you share.”

Dean grinned at Cas, and gave him a good once-over. The only thing that still showed their time spent in Purgatory was Cas’ beard, now too fully grown to still be called peach fuzz. At the moment, he was wearing the outfit he had worn when they first met; the suit a similar example but the exact same trench coat. He looked like Proper Cas again, the Angel who had defied the orders from above for Dean, Dean’s best friend. When they had ended up in Purgatory, Dean hadn’t even hoped to ever have that man back in his life. It seemed impossible. But they both had managed to escape, and slowly but surely they were falling back into an easy routine he hadn’t even notice they’d had. Dean loved his brother, would die for him over and over again, but with Castiel he really did share a more profound bond.

“Oh Cas,” he finally said, “never change.”


End file.
